


Something Mystic

by RiverDelta



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Multi, Trans Tucker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 08:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7632754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverDelta/pseuds/RiverDelta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Webcomic writer Kate "South" Holtzmann's somehow dating a snarky and cynical ghost, and below them on the third floor wizard Carolina Church is trying to keep up a relationship with activist Vanessa Kimball while a second ghost, Carolina's ex, pesters her. </p><p>On top of that, a ladies' man's husband comes home every day covered in demon blood and entrails.</p><p>There's got to be something in the air around the Gulch Building, something very mystic indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Mystic

**Author's Note:**

> My suspicion here is that the segment with Connie and South is by far the strongest, so any thoughts on that are appreciated, or thoughts on the fic as a whole.

David Washington knocked twice on the door to Room 19B on the ground floor of the Gulch Building. He wore a yellow and grey shirt and old grey pants. Both were stained a deep brownish-red. At first, people thought he'd been killing people, but the blood on his body stunk like raw sewage, and the whole world knew demons existed. It was unmistakeable, that scent. That disgusting odor. His face was lean and hardened, he had a Bowie knife at his side, in a sheath, and his hair was dyed yellow, but the dye had faded in many parts and his natural premature grey was there instead.

The man opening the door, however, was noticeably shorter, had his curly hair in a very short, evenly-lumpy cut, and wore an aquamarine tank top. "Hey, Wash." He waved and quickly stepped aside. As usual, Wash quickly untied his boots and pulled them off, leaving them by the mat, before running to the shower. Tucker called out after him. "Hey, get clean so I can touch you, okay?" Tucker smirked a bit, and Wash yelled from the bathroom. "Yeah, sure, I'll take my time. You go think about today's girl."

"You know me." Tucker laughed and lay across the couch, putting his hands behind his head. They didn't live in a palatial apartment, but the demon slayer and his husband did have a relatively nice place, cloaked in the darkness that only came from two people who didn't care enough to use the hanging lamps and outfitted with a pull-out couch and a small TV, as well as a modest kitchen.

* * *

One floor down, Vanessa Kimball and Carolina Church stood in the center of their apartment, each taking up a side. "Vanessa, we need to do something about York." In the middle of them, an apparition with a stylish tan suit on and a long tail of wispy matter instead of legs floated. "Do something about me? What am I doing wrong? Just because I'm your ex, and then I happen to die..." He laughed a bit.

Carolina shook her head. "York, Vanessa and I are a thing now. We are dating. We have a relationship going. You're not allowed to appear when we're going on dates." She sighed and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a handful of salt from a large package of it, and tossing it at the spirit, who leapt away, wincing. "Argh! You don't have to do that, you know!" Carolina took her staff from its place leaning against a wall and hit the floor with it a few times. "Spiritu Sancto!" She tossed more salt at York, and with a loud snapping noise, the spirit was banished back to the underworld for the time being. "I really can't do this every time he comes. Can I?"

"Only if he interrupts a date, I guess."

* * *

Two people lived in Room 3J on the third floor of the Gulch Building. One was on the building's records. She was a webcartoonist with a gallery of tattoos across her arms and legs, and she was currently laying across the bed of the pull-out couch, facing the room's TV. At the moment, she happened to be watching  _Iron Man 3,_ her arm around the partially transparent form of a floating woman with an undercut, who, despite being incorporeal, still managed to hold her head by the first woman's shoulder that it appeared as though she was resting her head on her. This woman was not on the building's records. She was a journalist who had been in a car with some drunk friends. She was in the passenger's seat, and they were on a freeway. The collision killed her within seconds.

So, at the moment, a human being named Kate Holtzmann (Though everyone called her South, due to a childhood story involving her and her brother on a road trip) happened to be doing her best to be cuddling a ghost named Constance Tegan (Though nearly everyone who knew her called her Connie or CT, for obvious reasons), while they watched a superhero movie. South turned her head a bit, briefly going through Connie's face until Connie brought her head back. "South..." Her voice had a slight whisper to it, even as she spoke at full volume. "I love you."

"I love you too. I don't think I ever got moments like this before I moved into this apartment, and, well, met you. Before that I was just North's bitch of a sister." Connie shrugged. "Look, I wasn't happy that someone moved into my apartment at first, either. Glad it turned out to be you, though." Connie brushed a temporarily solid cold hand across South's face. "Besides, if you're a bitch at least you're open about it. Unlike that possessive asshole from before I died."

"Look, we...don't need to think about him, okay? We're together, it's a nice evening, everything's awesome. I would offer you a drink, but..." Connie awkwardly shuffled around, making no noise, and did her best to embrace South fully with her limited corporeality. She closed her eyes, though as ghosts didn't really sleep, she was more just trying to relax. 

Once South closed her eyes and quickly fell asleep, Connie got up and begun to levitate a pencil near a leather-bound journal kept by the bed for this purpose, writing out her thoughts in the journal.


End file.
